Short Stories, writing

Fading, Dying, or Somewhere in Between

I think I’m fading, and I’m not sure what that means; I only know that I am.  Something inside me feels less bright, less existent, less there.  I feel less myself and more like nothing at all.  What a weird feeling.  Feeling like nothing.  I never knew what that meant, but I guess that now I do.

I think I’m dying.  In fact, I know I’m dying.  Not many people have stage four pancreatic cancer and say that they aren’t dying, and I don’t necessarily feel like being the odd one out.  Other people say that I’m part of a community, and while that is true, I’m part of a dying community so what’s the point?  We won’t ever exist without constantly dying, so why exist at all?

I think I’m somewhere in between.  I’m not fading, I’m not dying, but I’m somewhere in the middle, yet in both places at once.  Or, maybe, I’m just going  little crazy.  I suppose either one is fine.

I guess I feel like no one takes me for me anymore, so why would I?  No one criticizes me, no one argues with me, everything I say is like a last word or something that could be written down in a book.  I hate that.  As if dying makes you more profound or smarter.  I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten dumber, and that’s only if we pretend to overlook this hot mess I’m currently writing.

Fading, dying, or somewhere in between.  I guess I know what two of those feel like.  The third one I’m still working on, and, for some reason, I feel like I won’t be there for a long time.  Some part of me thinks it’ll be the part when I accept it.  The part when I accept that I’m fading and that I’m dying and the part that I become okay with it.  Yet, another part of me really hopes I’m wrong.  I never want to accept.  I never want to be okay.

So, it must be something else.  Maybe it’s the thought of slipping away and never existing again.  Maybe it’s the thoughts I’ll have after I’m dead, if that’s a thing.  I’m not sure what happens after a person dies. When I was small, I used to think that you went to a magical place that had a built-in Toys R Us and you just got to play all day.  Maybe that’s what actually happens, but something tells me it’s not quite that way.  I guess I’ll find out.

Yeah, I don’t know where somewhere in between is.  All I know is that I’m fading and that I’m dying.  That’s about it.

 

 

***Thanks for reading guys!  This is another excerpt from the short story I’m working on.  It is a journal entry from one of my characters that is currently struggling with stage four pancreatic cancer, and also trying to comprehend life and all of its complications.  Hope you enjoyed it!  More excerpts and the eventually completed short story will be coming soon.***

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21 thoughts on “Fading, Dying, or Somewhere in Between”

  1. This was a delight (in a good/bad way) to read. You really were able to catch what people in this characters’ shoes would think and I can tell you that I wouldn’t be able to write something like this, even if my life depended on it, so great job!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Seriously raw, powerful and direct. strangely it reminded of something a far cry from the written content – but it made me think back to Enid Blyton’s book The Magic Faraway Tree and the ‘magical land’ at the top.

    You are not really there, but you are not really away, so l guess you are somewhere in-between.

    Really lovely writing Emily, seriously.

    Liked by 1 person

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